Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press, 2019. viii, 263 pp. US$32.95, cloth. ISBN 978-1-62616-668-4.
In this volume Brad Glosserman builds upon his earlier report (also titled “Peak Japan”) to elaborate on his argument that although Japan may have acquired a greater international profile over the last couple of decades, it has now reached the high watermark of national power and is entering a process of steady, if comfortable, decline as a country. The book therefore offers a comprehensive interpretation of why this might be the case.
An introductory chapter, “The Unhappy Country,” sets the stage with a historical overview of the country up to the contemporary era, painting a picture of a nation now deeply mired in pessimism toward its future outlook. The following four chapters are then organized under the common leitmotif of shocks—each focusing on a different theme. Chapter 2, “The Lehman Shock,” examines the effect of the Global Financial Crisis on Japanese economic thinking. Chapter 3, “Seiji shokku” (political shock), explores how the long-standing Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) was abruptly, if temporarily, unseated by the short-lived victory of the Democratic Party of Japan (DPJ), sending shockwaves through the traditional 1955 system. Chapter 4, “The Senkaku shokku” (this could be plural in Japanese), takes the incident where a Chinese fishing trawler rammed a Japanese Coast Guard vessel in 2010, sparking a diplomatic furore between Tokyo and Beijing (thus causing an aftershock when the Japanese government nationalized the contested islands in 2012), as an ingress into questions of national security. The last chapter, “Higashi Nihon Daishinsai” (Great East Japan earthquake) delves into the dysfunctional situation around the genpatsu mura (nuclear village) that exacerbated the ill-fated DPJ’s response to the 3.11 triple disaster of earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear meltdown in 2011. These four chapters are capped by a summation of the book’s argument in chapter 7, “Peak Japan.”
Glosserman takes a familiar line in organizing the structure of the book around the widely postulated notion that Japan requires a systemic shock to catalyze reform—or even wholesale reinvention. This stance has become a penchant among Japan watchers, though some Japanologists consider the metaphor overblown. There has only been one example in modern Japanese history that really substantiates the latter point—the Meiji Restoration (or rather, revolution) of 1868. Japan’s postwar reinvention as a democratic state was not a voluntary response, but one imposed by an occupying power. Neither the 1923 Great Japan Earthquake of the Taishō period, nor the 1995 Great Hanshin Earthquake of the Heisei era triggered sweeping reorientations of the national landscape, for example. Nevertheless, if the framework is conventional, the argument is not.
In fact, Glosserman disproves this conventional thinking of shock/response by illustrating the “reluctance they [the Japanese] have to embrace sweeping change” (5) as being pervasive across the nation. The core thesis, that he seeks to substantiate throughout these thematic tableaux, is encapsulated as follows: “The Abe years are an interlude, a last gasp by great power traditionalists to boost their nation’s standing and to secure a leading role in regional and global councils” (236). Notwithstanding the proactive efforts of Japan’s most dynamic prime minister since Koizumi, he concludes that: “They will be frustrated as a combination of structural constraints and attitudinal barrier conspire to limit both Japan’s capacity to play that role and its desire to do so” (236). Glosserman compellingly supports his thesis by unpacking the extensive material and ideational (especially attitudinal) inhibitors to any national resurgence, and in the process provides sharp insights into the current national psyche of Japan.
Drawing upon his long affiliation with the country, Glosserman delivers a mixture of lively reportage (the coverage of the 3.11 disaster stands out in chapter 5), analytical observations, and diverse viewpoints among the Japanese and other experts in the field. He serves up a highly readable and comprehensive analysis of economic, political, security, and societal trends in contemporary Japan. Notably, he resists the all-to-common temptation to insert the United States/American perspective too prominently in the discussion (a persistent “bug bear” for Japan scholars), per the Reischauer tradition, and as a consequence we gain precious insight into what Japanese people—from all walks of life—really think (honne) about their nation and its place in the world.
Glosserman’s argument and conclusions make slightly discomforting reading for Japanophiles, though he is careful to balance his overall pessimistic conclusion with shards of optimism, (“shrinking horizons” are “not necessarily a bad thing” (246)). Indeed, the country may yet reinvent itself in unanticipated ways, and, above all: “Japan [still] matters” (6). It is impossible not to settle on the symbolism of the 2020/21 Olympics as a metaphor for how “dreams are shrinking in Japan” (221). While the 1940 Tokyo Olympiad was canceled due to war in Europe, the 1960 iteration was the “coming out party” for modern Japan. The 2020 Olympics were supposed to showcase that “the significant rebirth of Japan” (240). And yet, even that was not to be, as the COVID-19 pandemic first postponed then reduced the scope of the event to a virtual shadow of what was originally anticipated.
In sum, as Glosserman claims in the introduction, “Japan is understudied, undervalued, and underappreciated in the analysis and conduct of international relations” (1). Despite the proliferation of literature on Japan’s place on the world today, Peak Japan stands out from the pack for its combination of meticulous research, broad coverage, and sheer accessibility. It is thus invaluable to both the layperson and expert alike seeking to navigate the complex economic, political, security, and societal terrain of contemporary Japan.
Thomas Wilkins
University of Sydney, Sydney